PP: Adults on Facebook who comment on the profanity in my friends' statuses. My friend's status said "Fuck, my life SUCKS!" Instead of asking what was wrong, four different adults--I'm assuming family, since they had the same last name--said, "Life may be frustrating, but there are better words you can use to express yourself."

You know what? Maybe there aren't. Maybe his life is so terrible, nothing cuts it but a good ol' F bomb. Ever consider that, you pricks?

PP: When you start something as a joke, and people latch onto it and just keep on running.

Last year, I started wearing the ugliest sweaters I could find (Sweaters given to me by my grandmother on christmas, sweaters given to my mother on christmas, ridiculous things) every Thursday. I told my friend Nick about it, and we decided to call it "Awesome sweater Thursdays." So, every Thursday, we began to wear these sweaters. Eventually, one of our teachers caught on and asked us about it. He thought it was hilarious and joined in. Fast forward a few months, There's an article about "Awesome Sweater Thursdays" in the school newspaper. My friend Nick and I have full credit for starting it, and yet they refuse to interview us so they can claim that it shows school spirit and panther pride and all that bullshit. There is now a group on Facebook for "Awesome sweater Thursdays." It was not created by Nick or me. It is not run by Nick or me. It is not run like Nick or me would run it. I joined it just to tell them that I didn't like it.

PP: My housemates' cats have fleas. Aaaaargh! I've been letting them sleep on the bed ever since I moved in. I was combing the shy one and found some dirt, kept combing and then I found a case, kept on and removed three live and another case. Do not want! We're going to have to do so much cleaning... also, I recently read a blog post about all the horrible things that flea treatments can do to your pets, so now I'm paranoid about what we'll actually treat them with.

PP: Today I prepared some fries to be put in the convection oven to be served at lunch, I opened the door, and as I was putting them in, the started to close, the searing hot glass window on the oven door made contact with my skin, and it hurt. A LOT.Though it surprisingly didn't leave much of a mark, I had gotten a burn of a similar degree only just a few days before, and it left a scar on my arm.

PP: One of my friends giving me lectures about how I need to start accepting responsibility ever since I told him I was pregnant. Considering that this is coming from the guy who was kicked out of his parent's house for being too damn lazy to go to school, hasn't been able to hold a job for more than a few months, and does nothing but party, I don't think he has any room to talk.